I love sending you bad photos to see which ones you keep.

I’m keeping the sticky note you left because it says ‘buy milk’ and me.

You make trivia nights tolerable and sometimes victorious.

I like that you remember my dentist appointment and nag me kindly.

I left your salted snack on the counter so you’d come and take it.

I enjoy your stubbornness when you insist hot sauce belongs on everything.

I laughed at your terrible pun and saved it in my head for later.

I like that you steal the duvet and then offer the pillow as compensation.

You make unpacking less boring because you turn boxes into jokes.

I adore that you keep a pen behind your ear like a tired carpenter.

You make me call you about nothing and that feels completely reasonable.

I’m grateful you took the photo where I blinked and pretended I didn’t.

I sent a photo of the weird cloud and waited for your caption.

I like that you hide the good snacks and then share them grudgingly.

You’re the person I want to know if a stray cat belongs to anyone.

I smiled reading your grocery list and added ice cream underlined for you.

I love that you clap at the end of bad concerts and mean it.

I like that you call me out when I pronounce ‘quinoa’ like a villain.

You’re the reason my playlists contain three more silly songs than they should.

I want to steal your hoodie and keep pretending it fits me perfectly.

I appreciate that you remember the name of the barista I forgot.

I still check my phone expecting a small, stupid message from you.

You’re the first person I imagine when I find an extra slice of cake.

I love the way you apologize for burning toast by offering more butter.

I’m glad you’re the one who knows where I hide the spare keys.

I keep your worn sweater on the chair so I have something to steal.

I missed the tram but didn’t mind because I texted you instead.

I enjoy arguing with you about which pizza topping is offensive.

I noticed your coffee cup by the sink and felt a stupid, steady happiness.

You make ordinary errands worth mentioning to my mum.

I like how you laugh when you misread the recipe and still serve dinner.

I feel proud telling my sister about the time you fixed the heater.

I promise to answer the door at midnight when you come home from work.

I will carry your heavy bag up stairs without making it a thing.

I feel a simple joy when your playlist starts and I know your mood.

I want to be the one who packs your lunch when mornings are rushed.

I notice your penmanship and the way you cross your t's; it feels familiar.

I like that you reheat coffee twice and still drink it, stubborn and human.

I want to learn to fix that squeaky door hinge you always ignore.

I love the mismatched socks you keep using; they fit you.